


TEACHING JAZZ

by thoughtsdemise



Category: Transformers - All Media Types
Genre: Adventure, Humor, Shenanigans, Warped Reality (AU)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-22
Updated: 2017-11-23
Packaged: 2018-12-05 13:07:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 8,142
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11578692
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thoughtsdemise/pseuds/thoughtsdemise
Summary: Jazz boasts.  Prowl makes a bet.  Sideswipe and Sunstreaker are given free rein.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [rotorhead](https://archiveofourown.org/users/rotorhead/gifts).



> A/N: (oilwrench) ~ Prowl calls the Twins to a secret meeting to set up with some shenanigans as a diversion for something more. The more being a bet with Jazz. Jazz being a little snit during a meeting and bet Prowl he could sneak into the Ark even if Prowl knew when and where. So Prowl has the Lambos set up a part...literally on the objective.

Sideswipe and Sunstreaker read the terms of the contract on the datapad between them, blink suddenly all wide optics; they look at each other than look at the datapad again.  If either of them thought that Prowl was trying to pull a prank on them, neither of them say anything.  In fact if Cybertronians had had eyebrows, the Twins’ would have been well on their way to space right about now.  They glance at each other before finally leaning back  in tandem.  Sideswipe holds the datapad with the contract on it.  His optics narrowed in thought.  He taos the datapad against his chin.

“So let me get this straight,” he lowers the datapad and focused on Prowl who sits across from them, posture relaxed and open, almost joyous with his mischief.  “ **_Anything_ ** we want to do-”

“You get to do but within reason of course.”  Prowl smiles, actually smiles.  “I will ‘overlook’ twenty pranks as long as you pull of the party and capture Jazz.  Thus winning me the bet.”

Sunstreaker’s lips quirk as there is definitely a villainous glem in Prowl’s optics.  “Does that include punt the load minibot incidences?  When they won’t stop picking?”  He notices his twin sits up a little straighter, his interest a bit too obviously keen on the subject.

Prowl leans forward to place his elbows on his desk as he steeples his digits and taps them on his lips which no longer bear the open smile.  “I cannot overlook incidents of fellow Autobots fighting each other,” his tone serious.

Sideswipe slumps for a moment before straightening back up and leaning forward to put the datapad on Prowl’s desk.  “Okay gain enough,” he says his helm turns slightly to Sunstreaker who grumbled inaudibly.  “So forty pranks.”  He beams at Prowl.

While Sideswipe was psyched about getting the chance for at least twenty free passes on pranks, he was already processing a list of really good ones he never would have dreamed pulling because the consequences might have been too great, and they were all technically within the outlined limitations, he was also a savvy business mech.  The contract was well and above what Prowl should have made for a first offer.  It was a clear bid to capture and hold the Twins’ attentions.  A contract, Sideswipe mused to himself, that was just given a sweet enough appearance that most mechs would have jumped on the offer.  Sideswipe taps the datapad as he watches Prowl’s sensor panels dip and the corner of his mouth lifts again.  Tricy motherboard eater wanted the contract signed with minimal haggling.

::Sounds fair enough to me, Sides,:: is Sunstreaker’s helpful input.  ::Why push for more?::  Sunstreaker was watching Prowl closer now too.

::Ever the practical warrior, sunshine,:: Sideswipe sends to him with a teasing caress.  ::A good business mech accepts a sweet deal when offered to him, but a great one…::  He leads off watching Sunstreaker shift with a sigh.  Negotiations like this were never really Sunstreaker’s spice of energon.  

Prowl reaches forward to pick up the contract.  He gives it a quick cursory glance before placing it in front of him.  He sets his hands flat on the desk on either side of it, internally running a few numbers through his battle computer while outwardly studying the pair in front of him with a quiet gaze.  His optics take in the slight impatient twitch of Sunstreaker’s shoulder, there and gone in too brief an instant, but a rather damning tell when the Twins were plotting/working in close tandem with each other.  Prowl knew that tell all too well from having played poker with them numerous times.  He watches Sunstreaker jerk minutely as Sideswipe must have given him the equivalent of a hard poke along their spark bond.

Prowl smiles warmly and continues to tap a digit in a specific pattern.  A tell he had let others pick up on that he was on to their tricks.  It often made mechs think they were wily enough to out stripe someone who was often five or ten steps ahead of them.

He picks up a nearby stylus and amends a few items in the contract.  “Twenty-five overlooked pranks and,” his optics slide to Sunstreaker before crinkling at the edges with an indulgent smile, “I’ll get Ratchet to hand over his mix for his personal wax you are fond of, Sunstreaker.  The one that gives the plating a matte finish and feels like molten silk to the touch.”

Prowl puts down the stylus before laying the datapad down closer to the Twins again.  From the way Sideswipe has his focus on Sunstreaker, he knows that they must be having a private comm about “playing it cool”.  Sunstreaker’s digits twitch as he gazes at the datapad as if it was a fine Praxian high grade from the beginnings of the Golden Age.

Sideswipe emits a low tonal of static, the equivalent of a mech clearing their throat.  Sideswipe picks up the contract again to go over the revisions.  The heated stare from Sunstreaker has a lot to do with this move.

The contract stays mostly the same as before:  Prowl would supply the funds for all the materials necessary for the party including some musical tracks he knew from intel that Jazz would not be able to resist.  Musical tracks that had been outlawed because of their Kaonite origins and connections to after parties of the gladiatorial matches.  He would also be commissioning Wheeljack to brew up enough of his special crazy-mech high grade to strip the internal coatings off of every mech coming to the party.  All the Twins really had to do was make the necessary arrangements without dropping Prowl’s designation, he would be transferring the funds and data-bytes into the Twins’ private accounts and banks, and capture Jazz so Prowl can win that bet.

Sideswipe lowers the datapad and gives Prowl a closed look.  “How will you get Ratch to give up the recipe?”

Suddenly Prowl is the central focus of both frontliners.  Sunstreaker more than Sideswipe, considering the mech has tried everything under Cybertron and Earth’s moons to squeeze, bribe, and weedle it off of Ratchet.

At this Prowl rolls his shoulders in a wave.  He leans back in his chair and raises a hand to stroke his chin.  He smiles as if he knows some secret, he knows several in fact that will get him the mix without too much of a fuss from the CMO.  Though he knows Ratchet has been enjoying watching Sunstreaker come up with different ways to obtain the elusive mix, what was that human child’s show? - something about talking oceanic flora and fauna - that Ratchet had joked the situation reminded him of.  Prowl was also not above using a little “persuasion” on Ratchet to have him give up the goat as it were.

Prowl watches highly amused as two pairs of optics widen almost comically big as they stumble on the possible solution he might employ.

“You’ve got some dirt,” Sideswipe grins and leans forward.

Ah, Autobots and their penchant for juicy gossip on the the data exchange, no matter how some of them might protest that they never listened to it.

Prowl tilts his hem at Sunstreaker when he shifts looking uncomfortable.

“Yes, Sunstreaker?”

Sunstreaker blinks, refocusing.  “Blackmail does not seem-”

“Persuasion,” Prowl corrects.

“What?”

“I am not going to blackmail Ratchet, Sunstreaker.  It is against the Autobot Code plus my own personal code of ethics.”  Prowl holds a hand over his spark and dips his helm, turning off his optics for a moment, but lifting his helm to look Sunstreaker in the optic.  “I am merely going to persuade Ratchet to be generous with the details of the mix.”

Prowl smiles sweetly.  “He had been saying that he was thinking of sharing it anyway with that ‘persistent sunflower’ who ‘made him smile with fondness at his antics’.”  He chuckles as said mech starts then ducks his helm.  Sideswipe was grinning as he elbowed his brother.  The grim was a bit lewd, but it did add to the heat staining Sunstreaker’s face.

Prowl emits his own low tonal burst of static to call attention back to the dealing so that things do not get out of hand.  And we are on a restricted clock, he reminds himself.  “So we are in agreement then?”

He offers the stylus to the Twins.  His data pattern and personal glyphs were already imbued into the contract.  Sideswipe and Sunstreaker just had to add their own for it to begin implementation.

Sideswipe castes a glance at Sunstreaker who does the same. They both nod as devil grins break out on their faces.  Sideswipe than Sunstreaker add their data patterns and glyphs ratifying the contract.

Sideswipe reaches across the table for a handshake. A human gesture but a simple one that seals the deal with trust between parties.  Prowl gives him an approving smile then shakes Sunstreaker’s hand as well.  He activates the necessary permissions and codes to transfer the funds and data to the Twins as they exit his office to begin.

Prowl leans back once he is alone and chuckles at garish ceiling.  While not one to, how did Carly put it, count his Gallus gallus domesticus before they were formulated into life, Prowl begins to make plans for his victory.  Plans which would include a new paint job for the Ark as the first thing.  He lets a small laugh echo in his office before turning back to his daily paperwork with a self-pleased smile and lilt to his field.

-0-

Jazz bounces into the science labs, all bright optical band and open easy-going field.  He buzzes a hello to Skyfire getting a shy and hesitant wing flick and smile back.  Mech had come a long way from  that cold...Jazz winces, wrong analogy.  While happy to see Skyfire, he wasn’t quite the mech Jazz was scouting for.  Jazz’s field blooms with mischievous glee when he spies Perceptor and the project he was working on.

He bounds over to Perceptor’s section of the lab and pounces on an open stool, only making Perceptor jump slightly.

“Why hello, Jazz!”  Perceptor’s electromagnetic field reaches out to envelope Jazz unconsciously and sharing his infectious excitement.  “I was just going to comm you to see if you could make a trip down here.”

Jazz beams at Perceptor. Mech was all gelled energon and sweet iron.  He could often lift anyone’s spark without trying.  Jazz leans over to look at the project Perceptor had been working on.

Well it was really an upgrade more than a project.  Something Jazz had requested from the scientist to see if it was even possible.  And Perceptor had tackled the challenge head on with spectacular results if the data Perceptor had just beamed Jazz held true to Perceptor’s calculations.

“An increase of 85% efficiency to the sound dampeners?”  Jazz whistles.  “Perce, my mech, that’s slagging impressive considering they were already at 100% efficiency!”

“Mm, yes well.”

Perceptor turns back to the sound dampening upgrade.  He taps his digits against his chin as he rolls a soldering tool in his other hand.  A slight frown on his lips.  “Are you certain you need this today?”  Perceptor queries with a shifting of his microscope lense.  “I estimate that if I had another shift or two I could ratchet up the efficiency to at the very least by 200%.”

He leans down to continue working on the project, already starting to calculate some small changes he could make right then.  Jazz, however, seeps in under Perceptor’s reaching hands and nabs the upgrade, careful with the delicate circuitry, and subspaces it before Perceptor can even begin to formulate a protest.

Jazz salutes Perceptor before giving him a hearty slap on the back.  “No need for all that, Perce.”  He flicks one side of his optical band light in a wink.  “Just needed a 30% increase is all so it’s more than fine as is.”  Jazz can’t help the snort-chuckle at Perceptor’s pout.  Yeah definitely a mech that was gelled energon and sweet iron.

“Oh come on, Perce, no need for the pout now,” he teases.

Perceptor puts the soldering gun down and turns to face Jazz, arms crossed and ped tapping.  Jazz raises his hands in slight surrender at the stern look he is being leveled with which to be honest was about as threatening as Bumblebee in a pink tutu and bunny ears.  Jazz coughs to cover the chuckle at that thought.  He still wasn’t sure how Carly had talked Bumblebee into the outfit let alone got him to dance at that Easter party.

‘Spike better be careful or Bee’s gonna unintentionally snap Carly up,’ Jazz muses to himself as he blows a small puff of air through his vents when Perceptor started to raise his scolding digit and cocks a hand on his hip.

That was Jazz’s cue to beat a retreat.  “Sorry, Perce.  Doc-bot hollars.”  Jazz touches the comm suite on his audio.  Ratchet really had commed Jazz half an hour ago wanting to know when he would get his aft down to the medbay.  So Jazz had come to collect the upgrade for installation.  “Talk at you later, my mech!”

Jazz beats his quick retreat from the science labs, giving both Perceptor and Skyfire a kiss bye-bye.  He makes tracks for the lair of the Hatchet before the predacon in disguise as a medic got any more flame firing up his exhaust.

-0-

“You wouldn’t dare…”  Ratchet doesn’t finish his statement.  From that knowing little grin on Prowl’s face to the tiny movements of his sensor panels, he knew very well that Prowl was a mech of his word.  Ratchet silently curses his “party” days before heaving a large gust of air through his vents.

Prowl had Ratchet good and pinned; the slagger knew it too.  Not that Prowl was asking for much, but Ratchet had been enjoying the little game of keep away from Sunstreaker.  Narrowed optics focus on a face that was perfectly composed except for that one tiny smile.

“Tch,” Ratchet runs a hand over his face and considers his options.

This technically wasn’t a bad piece of info to get out.  But Ratchet’s reputation of being a smelting pool tough mech who’d give Unicron the willies would be slagged.  He snorts and leans back against the chair in Prowl’s office.

“Alright, you can have the mixture.”  Ratchet cracks a grin.  “So tell me what have you got those pitspawn planning?”

Prowl smiles at Ratchet and holds a hand out for the info-chip.  “Now, Ratchet, that is on a need to know basis.”

“I see.  This wouldn’t have anything to do with the bet you two made at the last command meeting would it?”  Ratchet nods his head as he rises, a ping from Jazz telling him he had better get his tail end back to the medbay.  “Need to know basis, right?”

He heads toward the door.  Ratchet had a good number of creds riding on both of them being able to one up the other.  For all his primal dignity, Optimus was still Orion at spark and still liked to bet so even he had creds riding on the outcome. Ironhide hadn’t helped matter there.  He pauses and turns half-way around.

“I suppose need to know is a good stance to have.  Makes you just like Jazz in that.”  Ratchet gives Prowl a mocking salute.  “Just like Jazz with his new upgrade.”  He sees Prowl stiffen from a lateral sensor, but Ratchet is off down the hall.  He chuckles to himself and sends Smokescreen a comm making a few changes to his bets in the pool.

Prowl shifts in his chair not rising to the medic’s bait.  Oh he knew alright that Jazz had gone to Perceptor to craft an upgrade to one of his systems.  Though Prowl had been unable to get what that was from Perceptor, Jazz’s orders for “Special Operations business” was the answer he was given.  Prowl was already running some calculations as to what it could be.  He grins and sends a message to Sunstreaker to meet him at his office after his duty shift.  He then turns back to his paperwork.

His face softens as he looks over the latest reports from Red Alert.  He could not tell if the mech was enjoying the challenge or beginning to have an episode because of it.  Prowl knew that although Jazz had directed the scoffing challenge at him, it was Red Alert who had taken it as a personal call to battle and step up to the line that Jazz had thrown down.

In fact, Inferno approached Prowl about some of the newest outfittings and rigs that Red Alert had already deployed as countermeasure to Jazz.  Now Prowl being the good senior officer that he was, had tucked the knowledge away into a very detailed report to all command staff.

Red Alert had been less that pleased to have the information spread.  But given Jazz’s track record for not reading reports carefully through if they did not particularly pertain to Special Operations, Prowl had assured Red Alert that it wouldn’t be a real problem.

Prowl flicks his sensor panels in amusement and sets about getting the rest of his paperwork done, making a mental not to run over the Twins’ preparations with Red Alert’s own.

-0-

Jazz stretches and wiggles his peds, flashing Ratchet a mischievous smile.  “Thanks, Ratch-man.”  He jumps from the operating table and continues to stretch and check out his systems upgrade and how it was integrating with his old hardware.  No glitches so far which was very promising.  Not that Jazz had expected any given the mech behind the upgrade and Ratchet having been the one to install it.

“Yeah, yeah.”  Ratchet wipes down the table and drags the tray of medical equipment to the sink to begin cleaning.  ‘Of all the times for Aide to be gallivanting with his brothers.’  Ratchet makes a face at the chore.  Sucked to do it alone, but it was nice, easy mindless work.

Jazz slides next to Ratchet, suddenly way too cozy.  Ratchet gives Jazz a gimlet optic before turning back to his task.  He wouldn’t say no to the company or help, but he knew Jazz was information hunting.

And after a few clicks…

“Data exchange tells me you got call into Prowler’s office.”  Jazz’s tone is teasing and friendly as he runs a sanitizing cloth over the medical tools.

“Yeah and?  Not the first time I’ve had Prowl pull rank to call me in for a grilling.”  Ratchet gives Jazz a very friendly smile in return.  “As I recall you were in there just a few days ago.  What was it about this time?  Something about supplying Wheeljack C4 for his distillery?”

Jazz emits a low tonal of static before laughing.  “Yeah.  Yeah, ha!  Thought Jackie’d be able to keep his excitement about it contained.  But ya know how he is once he and Blue start talking.  Bad luck Prowl happened to be sitting in on their card game that week.”

Ratchet laughs and hands Jazz a scalpel.  “You know Prowl’s determined to out do you on this one, right, Jazz?”

Jazz gives Ratchet a generous smile.  “Oh I know it!”  He flips the scalpel in the air and catches it while twirling it around the digits in one hand.  “Wouldn’t be much of a challenge if he wasn’t.”

“You’ve got Red Alert benting on your aft as well,” Ratchet frowns at Jazz’s antics which makes him pause and go back to helping clean the tools instead of using them for juggling.

“Ha!  Who’d of thought Red would get so revved about it?”

Ratchet turns to face Jazz.  His field incredulous even as it fill with a fond exasperation.  “Really?  A surprise?”  He shakes his head.  “Commanding officer for Security of the Autobots?  Same mech, may I remind you, who calls for a monthly scrub down for any organics that have gotten into the base on the off chance that Bombshell has devised a way to control them and send in recording equipment attached to them.”  He tosses a hook at Jazz which the mech catches without trouble.  “You basically told Red that he couldn’t do his job even if it meant keeping out one of his own.”

Jazz looks a bit mullified at the news.  He hadn’t thought that Red Alert would take it that personally.  He puffs out an exaggerated vent of air.  From a lateral sensor he can see Ratchet’s shoulders shaking with suppressed mirth.  And here he counted himself a pro at reading even the subtlest of shifts in field and frame.

He sets the sanitized hook aside and considers what he missed.  True he had been primarily focused on Prowl to read the mech, especially when he had that particular gleam in his optics.  The shade that meant that Prowl needed to be approached carefully.  He knows he didn’t miss Red Alert striking both of his fists on the meeting table.  But honestly the mech had only lowered his helm and shut off his optics; even Red Alert’s field had projected calm.

Jazz raises a hand to scratch at his cheek under his optical band.  He’d have to come up with a way to apologize to Red Alert.  Although, Jazz smiles thinking about it, he was pretty sure Red Alert was having the time of his life reinforcing the Ark’s defense structures with Optimus’ blessings.  Jazz laughs and lays a friendly hand on Ratchet’s shoulder.

“Hope you’ve got all your creds on me to win,” he boasts.  “Smokie’s already making sure the field is carefully studied.  Mech is in his element.”

Jazz grins and relaxes fully.  It made him happy to see fellow Autobots, but especially those under his command, got to experience things from their life before this pit-stain of a war.  He gives Ratchet’s shoulder a squeeze before turning to head out of the medbay.  Couldn’t hurt to put his audio to the bulkhead to pick up some intel before starting his own planning now that he knew he was not only going up against Prowl but Red Alert too.


	2. Chapter 2

Red Alert eyed Sideswipe.  While he’s certain the big frontliner had not just heard him talking to himself about some additional traps, Sideswipe’s appearance in front of him was sending off warning bells in Red Alert’s processor.  He narrows his optics and backs up a step before making to go around Sideswipe who easily steps in his way.

‘So much for him not being here for me,’ Red Alert thinks and quickly tosses away the thought that he and Sideswipe had just run into each other b mere coincidence.

He subspaces the datapad he was holding and does a quick spark read-scan for Sideswipe’s usual cohort.  He hums to himself when he is unable to detect Sunstreaker nearby.  So the calculated likelihood that Sideswipe was up to some type of prank lowered in Red Alert’s mind.

Red Alert taps his foot when Sideswipe flashes him a warm and inviting smile.  It was clear to him now that Sideswipe did seem set on engaging in small talk with him.  Red Alert keeps his face in a neutral if annoyed mask. He had a meeting to get to and this big red roadblock was currently in his way.  So opting to be civil to a fellow Autobot, Red Alert nods to Sideswipe’s warm smile; however, he keeps his arms crossed and his frame a rigid line.  A clear message to most mechs that the mech sporting them was not very interested in A friendly bit of “small talk”  and that they were pressed for time.

“What do you want, Sideswipe?”

Sideswipe’s smile falls into a pout that Red Alert is not buying into.  Neither was he going to buy into the “clueless” behind the head scratch.  Sideswipe’s moves looked too practiced and polished to be anything but rehearsed.

“Gee, Red.  Can’t a mech say hello to a friend?”

Red Alert snots but remains where he was, ignoring the widened optics.  He was good at waiting.  He had out waited nearly every mech on this base with the exception of a handful.  “What do you want, Sideswipe,” Red Alert asks again.

This time the surprised look Sideswipe levels at Red Alert is not a complete pile of dinobot slag.  Sideswipe has the decency to look properly chastised and holds up his hands in a friendly gesture of surrender.

“Geeze, Red.  You go right for the main energon line of the spark, don’t ya?”

Red Alert takes a step toward Sideswipe, causing the bigger mech to back away in surprise.  “I am currently on my way to an important meeting, Sideswipe, and have various tasks to complete before my scheduled recharge cycle.  All of which I would like to get done.  And,” he gives Sideswipe a slow grin, “I don’t know about you and your brother, but I do not particularly enjoy being on the receiving end of one of Ratchet’s lectures.”

He moves to step around Sideswipe again.  “Now if all you wanted to do was say hello, it is time to say good-bye.”

Red Alert stops just short of smacking his nose into Sideswipe’s chest.  He jumps back, automatically on the defensive.

Sideswipe holds up his hands again.  “I need information, Red.”  That catches Red Alert’s audio very quickly.  Sideswipe lowers his hands.  “I need to know the circumstances behind this whole Jazz thing that you and Prowl are getting into.”  Sideswipe had learned that often the fastest way to get any sort of information from Red Alert was to tell him the truth.

“Why?”

Sideswipe castes optics about the hallway.  He knew that all mechs in the Special Operations Division were scheduled for out of base late night training exercises, one of the reasons he thought it safe to approach Red Alert right now.  No spies on base made his job that much easier.

“I’d like to know what Jazz said specifically to get you two so torqued.”

Red Alert gives Sideswipe a long look.

“Alright.  Prowl ‘hired’ Sunny and me to help him set up a few things.”  Sideswipe scratches at his cheek when a look of keen interest passes over Red Alert’s features.  “While I’m bound by a contract, I am allowed to inform you of a party that is gonna be held soon.”  Sideswipe gives Red Alert a significant look.  “Any info we can have about this whole thing will help us plan better.”

He grins at Red Alert.  “Call us a Plan Z to your Plans A to Y,” he coos.

“Your ‘Plan Z’ might not be needed,” Red Alert said with a shifting of his armor plates.

“True.  Very true,” Sideswipe weedles.  “But you just said might instead of won’t. You’ve run some calculations, and there’s always that bit of extra Jazzy luck to account for, right?”  Sideswipe produces a data-chip from his subspace and holds it in an open palm.  “Of course, being a mech of business, I understand a fair exchange of information.  You scratch my back, I scratch yours sort of thing.”

Sideswipe picks up the data-chip and holds it between two digits.  His smile is charming.  “Fair trade of information for information.”

Red Alert eyes the chip still putting on an air of mostly uninterested.  “And?”

Sideswipe releases a tonal burst of static.  “I liberated some recent project designs from Percy.”

“You stole classified material?!”  Red Alert raises the volume of his voice.

“Now, now.  Stole is such a harsh word and notion.  I prefer liberated the information to keep it out of Decepticon hands and to help Jazz’s fellow Autobots shore up their defenses, especially against a mech sporting an upgrade to his sound dampeners that make said mech 85% more quiet.”

Sideswipe leans forward to hold the data-chip in from of Red Alert’s widening optics.  He grins before holding out his other hand and letting the chip fall into his open palm, letting it hover just under Red Alert’s nose.  Oh he definitely had the security officer’s full attention now.

“Lucky, Percy was so peeved about Jazz not letting him finish the project which he wanted to up the efficiency by 200% vs just 185%; he was vocalizing his frustrations to his fellow lab buddy about how some commanding officers don’t take into account the need for better efficiency percentages before taking the equipment out for usage.

“And it was a wonder that my dear brother Sunstreaker happened to be on his way to Wheeljack’s lab to pick up the first shipment of certain supplies and overheard poor Percy’s concerns to Sky.  Then informed me so we could liberate the information to share with you and for you to keep it safe from Decepticon hands.”  Sideswipe beams at Red Alert.

Red Alert eyes the data-chip. The digits of one hand tapping on an elbow.  He flicks his optics up to Sideswipe’s smile before grinding a few gears.  He carefully weighs releasing the video feed of the command meeting, which if he were honest had been nothing of import or secret, for the information on the chip.

He lifts his hand and a red data-chip appears in it.  He drops it into Sideswipe’s palm and removes the other chip and subspaces it.  He steps around Sideswipe easily this time.

Red Alert turns back with a wry grin.  “I trust you will find the video entertaining to our own endeavors.”  He winks before turning a corner and making his way double-paced to his meeting.

Sideswipe snorts a laugh and tosses the chip in the air before easily catching it and placing it in a secure subspace pocket.  He sends a comm ping out to his brother.  And while the response is gruff, ‘Sunny and his arting time’, Sideswipe knows that Sunstreaker was just as excited as him about learning how this whole slag pit got started.

“Meet you in ten, honeysuckle,” he says before heading of to their quarters.

=0=

Sunstreaker straightens from where he had been leaning over Sideswipe’s shoulder to watch the video footage.  While Sideswipe was having a bit of a good laugh, particularly at the part where Prime had been knocked on his aft trying to get between Prowl and Jazz, Sunstreaker went over to their bunk and sat on Sideswipe’s berth.  He picks up a datapad and inserts the chip with the wax recipe on it.  The snort is what finally draws his brother’s optics away from the vid-file.

Sideswipe gets up and stretches.  He goes over to their bunk and leans against Sunstreaker’s bunk to watch him scan the ingredient list and instructions on how to mix it together to consistency and so on.  He lays a hand on Sunstreaker’s helm to get his attention.

“So whatcha think, Sunny?”  Sideswipe’s digits pat at his brother’s vents before he flops down on his berth next to Sunstreaker.  “Think you can mix up a batch?”

Sunstreaker hums in reply before subspacing it.  He scoots back till he can rest back against the wall.  Sideswipe is quick to join him, offering Sunstreaker a place to rest his head.

It had been a pit of a shift.  With the preparations for the party and trying to keep those under wraps, Sunstreaker doesn’t know how Sideswipe can have so much energy right now, though he can feel the fatigue in Sideswipe’s spark well enough.  Though the vid-file sure did help to lighten any lingering worry that contracting with Prowl to catch Jazz had been a bad idea.  As Sideswipe had said halfway through, “he opened his own virus now he’d have to deal with the glitches”.

Sunstreaker leans his helm against his brother’s offered shoulder and lays his hands over Sideswipe’s.  He smiles when Sideswipe curls their digits together.

“Hey, Sun, I know you’re worried, but we’re gonna pull this off no problem.”  Sideswipe blossoms open his side of their bond to share his giddy excitement.

Sunstreaker snorts.  “When have I ever said we weren’t?”  He smiles wanly up at Sideswipe for a moment before it drops.  “I just,” Sunstreaker pauses and tightens his digits around Sideswipe’s who does the same to his.  His worry and concern leak through their bond as a bit as the true depth of Sideswipe’s fatigue seeps through as well.  “I’m worried you’re pushing yourself too hard, Si.”  He bites his lip and leans closer to Sideswipe. “If the ‘Con slags attack -”

The touch of the back of Sideswipe’s other hand rubs against Sunstreaker’s cheek.  His boundless enthusiasm and self-assured pride flood Sunstreaker who shakes his head before leaning into the gentle touch.

“Almost D-day, Sunny.  And Jack said he’d bring the last container to the epicenter.”

Sideswipe snuggles in closer to his brother.  Their syncing systems and sparks pulling them into a recharge cycle.

“How bout if I promise not to get up at the aft-crack of dawn, hm?”

Sunstreaker nods and smiles softly at Sideswipe’s own roguish grin.  “Alright but I’m cornering Blaster and his crew tomorrow while you enjoy a break.”  Sunstreaker pokes Sideswipe in the chest.  Sideswipe gives him a sleepy fake wounded look before relenting.

Sunstreaker hums, his systems almost powered down, but he presses a kiss to Sideswipe’s shoulder.  “Night, Si, got your back.”

Sideswipe gives Sunstreaker’s helm a kiss.  “Night, Sun, got your back.”

=0=

Mirage retrieves the drone from the vent a fair bit away from the Twins’ quarters.  He stuffs the monitoring equipment into his subspace.  He picks himself up and turns to get to the monitor room to begin his shift.  The frown on his face enough to keep most mechs from stopping the Special Operations agent accept Bumblebee who slides into easy step beside Mirage.

::So?::

::This is completely childish!::  Mirage snaps over the private comm.

Bumblebee winces but still keeps pace.  ::I know that.::

They walk in silence for a while.  Mirage still glaring, his field openly hostile for any who dared to feel it.  Bumblebee’s smile and friendly calls throw mechs off Mirage’s sour mood though.

::So you wanna talk about it,:: he finally offers when they board the lift to the monitor room.

“No,” is the sharp reply.

Bumblebee waits a few ventilations before trying again.  Mirage was often easier to read than an open unguarded data file.  He was very torqued.

::I think you’ve got your tail pipe and cables in a twist because Jazz is being so nonchalant about this.::

Mirage steps off the lift, no looking at Bumblebee as he slides into the seat Warpath had just vacated.  The noble glares at the screen as it flicks through the channel feeds.

Bumblebee huffs a sigh and pats Blaster on the shoulder to send him off.  Blaster’s bitlets blink sleepily up at him as they are gathered in their carrier’s arms.  Eject sends a text file of the winners of the latest sport he had been following during the shift.  Bumblebee smiles indulgently at Eject as the Cassette clings to Blaster’s neck to give the minibot a thumbs up.

Shaking his head, Bumblebee settles in at his own monitor station, letting the matter rest for now.  He keeps half of his processing cortex focused on the output of the monitor while he tries to figure the problem out.

Jazz certainly hadn’t helped when he had told the rest of Special Operations to keep their olfactory sensors out of it.  He had actually made it an order and said straight up that he was to get no intel on any of the prep work going on around him.  He had said he had wanted to play fair.  But Mirage had then fired back about the sparkling behavior and senior officer pride and so on.  Jazz had brushed it all off and made the order a firm command.

Bumblebee shoots a look at Mirage before turning back to his own monitor.  Mech’s lines of his frame were still tight with fury.  Bumblebee sigh internally.

While he had agreed with Jazz about it to begin with, the intel that Mirage had started to collect, against those commands, put Jazz in way over his head.  It had been the upgrade to the Ark’s security net that Red Alert had been making and Prowl carefully hiding that information away in an official run of the mill report that had put Bumblebee on edge enough to start siding with Mirage.  He knew Jazz could handle anything Prowl would be able to throw at him, but mix in the Twins and Red Alert?  Bumblebee blows out a loud vent of air.

::Wanna go on a mission in three days?::  Bumblebee hears Mirage’s frame shift slightly.  ::Boss said no intel.  Never said nothing about ‘not helping’ though.::  He turns his head slightly to give Mirage a rogue smile.  He gets a considering look back.

::We could counter just a few of the new security measures Red Alert has in place,:: Mirage offers back.  ::Have to wait til that night though.::

Bumblebee hums.  ::Not a problem we’re scheduled to be doing practice maneuvers that night with Jazz.  Bit of hide-and-seek should give us outs to do that.::

::What about the Twins’ party?::

Bumblebee actually laughs at the lighter tone in Mirage’s words.  Subterfuge the boss to get around orders? Heck yeah they were both in as it would be a test of their own skills to get around Jazz.

::Might be hard to resist that music list I just got from Eject.::  Little bit had all his cred riding on Jazz to win.

::When -::  Mirage turns his head to give Bumblebee a wide-eyed look.  “The scores for the games looked that good?” Mirage asks aloud turning back to his monitor screen.  The lines of his frame almost fully relaxed.

“Yup.  They were real catchy, but it should be alright.”

Mirage relaxes fully and joins Bumblebee in his mirth.

“Alright, so they would help Jazz out under the radar.  After all the Special Operations Division couldn’t let this challenge slide.

::I still think this is childish.::

::I know, Raj, I know.  But you gotta admit with so many gunning for Jazz, it’s going to be a good show!::


	3. Chapter 3

Jazz ducks under a barrage of laser fire and dodges a laser-net. He transformers into alt and zooms back a few hundred feet into a sort of neutral zone.  He dances back into root and drops to his aft, considering the dark patch of desert in front of him.  He touches the side of his face to manually shift his visor through several visual spectrums beyond most mechs’ normal ranges before he sports a wry grin with a huff.

“Well, I’ll be slagged!  Ratch-man was sure right about Red taking this personally.” He lifts his right arm to look at the light scorch mark.  If those lasers had been set to anything but stun, he’d e missing some of his plating.

Jazz hooks his digits behind his head as he surveys the field in front of him.  He wolf whistles at the readouts his vizor was pinging him with.  “Red, you’re a scary one when you want to be.”

Red Alert had set up several independent thinking artificial intelligences to run the traps and surveillance equipment in a 700-meter grid.  It’d make them damn near impossible to hack and take down the system.  Plus Jazz was picking up several varying signal blockers.  The signals themselves were morphing and turning back into each other, making the chance to hack any of the AIs via a wireless connect up difficult if not dangerous.  A mech could run the risk of getting lost in that tangling signal of shifting waves.

Jazz lets the smirk fall from his face as he leans forward to rest his elbows on his knees.  He runs over several approaches he could take in a background processing tree as he notices two faint electromagnetic field signatures not far from his position.  Since the were familiar e doesn’t move from his current position for a more concealed spot.  But he does now wonder what Mirage and Bumblebee have at stake in this little game that was meant to be between himself and at the very least just Prowl.

His optics scan the neutral zone with a narrowed tilt.  Spotting some subtle signs of sabotage now that he was looking for it.  He frowns at the evidence that his direct orders regarding this had been disobeyed.  He growls at the almost mockery of his skill.  A blows a vent to calm himself.

::Get your afts back to base.::  He short beams to both of them.. He can feel a spike in the fields around him.  ::In fact confine yourself to Bee’s quarters for the duration of SUnstreaker and Sideswipe’s party.::  He adds in a snap, ignoring the return beam from Bumblebee.

He knew his mechs were just concerned he would lose, some scrap about Special Operations hoor.  As if he would let some traps stand in his way if he really wanted to get into a place.  Even if they were designed to counter him specifically.  And as he paused to center his focus to calm, he was fairly impressed that Bumblebee and Mirage had gotten so far into Red Alert’s security net designed to counter him.  He considers the trapped ground before him and gives it a proud smile.

“Does a commander proud,” he quips to the empty desert air.  “Alright then.”  He bounces to his feet, his hands planted firmly on his hips.  He leans forward and, “You reading me, Red?  I’ll be seeing you soon.”  He flicks the light of one side of his vizor before drawing back into the unmonitored darkness.

He still had plenty of time before his ETA into the Ark was suppose to happen.  He kneels behind a grouping of rocks and sends a message to both of Red Alert’s “sitters”.  Trailbreaker is quick to answer back with a slightly miffed thanks.

Jazz was not above using all avenues open to him.  Red Alert should have been in recharge right now according to the schedule he and Ratchet had agreed upon for his health and to optimize his functionality of his duties.  Trailbreaker would be quick to snatch him up and drag him back to his quarters and sit on him until he recharged.

He grins and activates the cranked up sound dampeners also booting his pulse shielding.  It would give him a bit of an advantage to fade into the background.

“Should be enough to trick those AIs,” he swipes at his chin in thought.

The pulse shield deflects any optic or visual sensor away from certain areas unless it was stred at by the right visual range scan.  It’s a passive shielding system that doesn’t emit any high level readings.  It is a bit like Mirage’s invisibility shielding but less system draining.  It would be enough to get Jazz through most of Red Alert’s traps that relied on the visual spectrum.  The sound dampeners would help take care of auditory sensors.

“So I just gotta be on the lookout for physical pressure sensors.”

Jazz inches himself closer to the hot zone.  He pauses every few minutes to track any other moment before slipping into the zone.  

_ ‘This is gonna be fun!’ _

=0=

Red Alert blinks at up at Trailbreaker who was frowning at him.  An earlier comm call from Inferno had alerted him that he had been outed for skipping necessary recharge time.  He frowns at Trailbreaker who he had thought was going to be at the Twins’ party, just like Inferno was out of the vicinity of the Ark on an assignment.  Red Alert sighs and tilts his head back to the bank of monitors.  He lifts his hands even as the tapping of Trailbreaker’s foot was making one of Red Alert’s optics tick slightly.  He shutters his optics and types in a command to put the systems on autopilot while a WiFi signal made its way to his personal quarters.  He was not going to let Jazz win that easily no matter how much Trailbreaker and Inferno would be torqued off about it.

He pushes away from his station and turns to face one of his “nanny-ots”, as others so lovingly called them.  ‘At least I’m not being carried out like an organic new frame..’

Red Alert huffs but lays a hand on Trailbreaker’s arm.  “Thank you for the reminder, Breaker,” e says with a warm enough smile.

Trailbreaker gives him a suspicious eying before nodding and falling into step beside Red Alert as they made their way to his quarters.  He scratches at the back of his head with a shrug.  “I’m surprised you came so quietly, Red,”  He playfully nudges Red Alert.  “Thought for sure I’d have to drag you out with how focused you’ve been on catching Jazz.”

Red Alert walks in silence for a few paces before he gives Trailbreaker a sharp smile which makes the bigger mech’s step falter as a shudder passes through his frame.  “Yes well.  He has identified and found some things I laid out for him further from the Ark’s main haul, but he has not found everything yet either.”  He stops at his door and taps in his code quickly, wanting to hookup to the WiFi signal he had sent out earlier.  However, he stops dead in his tracks when he spies his desk.  A desk that should contain a small personal terminal link and some data pads, but a desk that now stands completely devoid of anything at all.

“Oh?”  Trailbreaker peers over Red Alert’s head, surprised by the sudden stop.  “Ah!  Yeah sorry about going into your quarters and taking the tech.”  Trailbreaker gives Red Alert a sheepish smile.  “Ratchet saw me leaving the party with a sour look on my face and suggested a few things to help out with making sure you rest well.  So we stopped by here first to tidy up and stow your gear.  It’s in a containment lockser in the medbay no one will get to but the doc-bot.”

Trailbreaker pats Red Alert’s back with a warm hand, pushing him gently to his bed.  “Ratch also said to tell you him comm-line is gonna be open to you if you need anything before you power down for recharge.”  He salutes Red Alert playfully with a teasing smile.  “Now off to nappy time with you.”  Trailbreaker pats Red Alert’s head this time and draws back, hearing a part call his name.  He leaves Red Alert to tuck in on his own.

Red Alert stand stock still, staring dumbly at his empty personal work station for a few more minutes before snarling and stepping full into his quarters and slamming his hand against the locking panel.

He pings Ratchet and gets an immediate and happy response.

“Red!”

“You fragger!!”

Ratchet clicks a scold at him.  “Language youngling,” he says.  “Trailbreaker, Inferno , and I just have your best interests at spark.”

Red Alert shakes with thwarted fury, like a angry, wet young feline organic.  He cust the com link with Ratchet with a loud burst of angry static.  Stomping over to his bed, he gives it a kick.  He shutters his optics and goes through some of the ventilating exercises that Carly had been going over with him.  Though he was still uncertain how these birth-breathing exercises would help him not to have a litter of kittens?  He signs at least it seemed to be helping her deal with her mate, Spike, hoovering, and he was always glad to help Carly out.

He lays down on his bed, beginning his power down sequence.  The artificial intelligences would give Jazz a real run for his shanix,  Red Alert gives one last devious smile.  And there was still that last particular challenging one he had added to Jazz’s entrance point, right where the part was taking place.  A last minute addition he had added to his security grid plan thanks to the Twins’ sharing their information.  He only hoped Trailbreaker stayed clear of that foam bomb when it went off.

=0=

Ratchet winces only slightly before looping an arm about Smokescreen’s shoulders and pulling him to the dance floor.  While he was playing the odds from all ends, he had a lot riding on Jazz making it through at least Red Alert’s grid and traps.  And if he decided to do his duty and be a good medic and it helped his odds, who was going to complain?

“Something good must have happened,” Smokescreen says with a wiggle to his sensor panels.  While he was at the party to have fun, he was also there to make sure his betting pools stayed current.

Ratchet grins and twirls Smokescreen out onto the floor with a wink.


End file.
